


Number (1) Favorite Human

by whenshewrites



Series: A Collection of One-Shots and Tumblr Prompts [102]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Derek Hale is a Nice Thing, Derek Hale is a Softie, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Stiles Stilinski, One Shot, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Stiles Stilinski Deserves Nice Things, Stiles Stilinski is a Mess, soft Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:40:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29813403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenshewrites/pseuds/whenshewrites
Summary: “Why haven’t you ever offered me the bite?”Derek immediately tensed, expression turning guarded. And Stiles tried not to feel hurt at that, biting down on his lower lip.“Am I not good enough, Derek?”
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: A Collection of One-Shots and Tumblr Prompts [102]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956889
Comments: 19
Kudos: 475
Collections: Sterek Goodness





	Number (1) Favorite Human

The thing about the Hale pack was that everyone in it was absolutely, one hundred percent, drop-dead gorgeous.

And the thing about Stiles Stilinski was… well, he was Stiles Stilinski.

The last time he’d really looked into his reflection and been insecure, had been the first time he’d tried asking Lydia Martin out, and it’d been like he wasn’t even there. Stiles might as well have been invisible for the way that sharp green eyes never lingered on him and sometimes, he thought it just might be better that way. The thing about hot people was that Stiles was _not_ one of them and because of that, he was constantly confused.

Confused about why Derek kept him around the pack, anyway.

Sure, Stiles was a mad genius when it came to doing research. There wasn’t any lore he couldn’t dig up and there wasn’t any monster he couldn’t figure out how to kill. That might be why, he thought. Why Derek hadn’t quite given him the boot yet.

The thing about being the only plain human in a pack of drop-dead werewolves was that Stiles sometimes wondered if that’s why Derek had never offered him the bite.

It wasn’t like he was calling the big grumpy werewolf biased or anything. Scott had once accused Derek of only going after the losers at Beacon Hills High and the man had been pissed off about that for days. But then Stiles had watched his friends go from sticking in the shadows to owning the halls, and he sometimes wondered why he hadn’t been offered that chance too.

Stiles was pretty sure it didn’t bother him. He just… wondered sometimes.

It might bother him a little bit.

It was a cool autumn afternoon when Stiles sat on the porch of the Hale house watching Derek train the other betas. Erica was kicking ass, which wasn’t really surprising because the woman could be absolutely feral when she wanted to. Stiles thought if he ever got into a one-on-one with her, he wouldn’t be making it out alive.

The first time he’d come over to the newly built Hale house to watch them train, his first thought had been _'_ _badass'._ Honestly, his brain hadn’t been able to come up with much more but that might be because two out of the four werewolves had been shirtless and one of them had been Derek. Which… totally wasn’t a thing.

Over time though, Stiles was a little less amazed. He’d watch Erica kick Isaac’s butt and glance down at his own hands, wondering if he could ever do that. If he was given the chance, that is.

It didn’t bother him though, remember? Not even just a little bit. 

Or whatever.

The door behind him opened and closed as Lydia dropped down at his side with a glass of water in one hand. Red hair fell over her shoulder as she tilted her head, studying the betas and then smirking as Boyd knocked Jackson to the dirt. Chewing on his lower lip, Stiles glanced over at her.

“Hey, Lyds?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think Derek would have offered you the bite if you weren’t already… you know. A terrifying death screamer?”

The girl gave him a quizzical look and Stiles tried not to blush, ducking his head.

“Just wondering.”

He could feel green eyes still studying him, but Stiles pretended like he didn’t see. Once more, he focused on his hands, waiting for an answer. And an eternity seemed to pass before Lydia shrugged, turning her gaze back forward.

“I don’t know. Maybe. Eventually.”

Stiles swallowed. How long had it been since he’d officially started considering himself a part of the Hale pack? A handful of years, after multiple occasions of nearly dying at Derek and co's side. So how long counted as eventually? He didn’t think that long.

“Stiles?”

He glanced back over at her, forcing a grin onto his face. “I’m good.”

Lydia didn’t look convinced, but Stiles just turned his attention back toward the training. He did his best to keep his gaze off Derek and the man's unfairly well-formed _everything_. Because the last thing he needed was Erica to catch him staring and give him one of those knowing smirks that she was always so quick to wear. Or worse, for Derek to ever see.

Once more, Boyd knocked Jackson into the dirt and Stiles snorted, cheered up even if only for a quick moment.

He could hear the beta cursing from where he sat.

-

The rest of the Hale house was silent when Stiles sat on the couch hours later, his computer open on his lap and an empty bag of popcorn at his side. Isaac had done nothing but complain all afternoon that Derek had worked them way too hard earlier and when Erica had told him to can it, the beta had slunk into his room with a glum look.

But Stiles could hear snores now, so he was pretty sure Isaac had knocked right out.

The others had left an hour ago with all the cash Derek had on him, claiming they were going to pick up pizza. But they still weren’t back so Stiles had pretty much given up on that ever happening. For all he knew, they’d completely forgotten about coming back and were crashed at a pizza place somewhere enjoying the food that was meant to be for the _entire_ pack.

He wasn’t sure where Derek had gone off too— the loft was silent other than Isaac. 

Except, suddenly one of the doors opened and closed down the hall and Stiles glanced over his shoulder to see a very wet and very half-naked Derek Hale step out of the bathroom. His heart rate instantly rose and he whipped back forward, focusing hard on his computer screen again.

Stiles could hear the man's footsteps moving toward his bedroom and he cursed internally, trying to take deep breaths. He’d been looking up… what had he been looking up again? Witches. No, fairies? 

_Screw all the drop-dead gorgeous werewolves._

That’s what Stiles would like to say.

He found himself fiddling with the hem of his sweatshirt instead of actually paying attention to whatever was on his screen. By the time the footsteps came down the hallway, he was pretty sure his heartbeat had quieted a little bit, but he still tried to focus even harder on his computer. 

Derek passed him with a raised eyebrow and Stiles did his best to ignore it. Grunting, the man moved into the kitchen, shuffled around a little, and came back out with a cup of coffee. Stiles raised an eyebrow of his own at that.

“And you say I have bad caffeine habits.”

“It’s decaf.”

“Oh, wow, Sourwolf. Now that’s just boring.”

Derek flat out ignored him this time, grabbing the remote and flipping on the TV. Whatever the betas had been watching earlier came on full blast and Stiles yelped, slamming his laptop shut in surprise. 

“Dude, I’m trying to do research here!”

That earned him a pair of rolled eyes and Stiles huffed, shoving himself up. Almost as quickly, Derek caught his sleeve and Stiles froze. 

“Er, what?”

“Where are you going?”

“Home, dude,” Stiles said, trying to pull away. But Derek’s grip was like iron. “So I can make sure we all live to fight another week, unless you want to go in blind to whatever the hell is terrorizing Beacon Hills this time?”

The man didn’t answer for a long moment, still not letting go. And Stiles didn’t like the way those grey-green eyes searched his face, as if Derek knew exactly what Stiles wasn’t saying. Which… wasn’t anything. It totally wasn’t anything.

But then the man’s brows furrowed. “You’ve been acting strange lately.”

Stiles stiffened. Derek didn’t seem to notice, though, looking lost in thought.

“And your scent has been off.”

“O-okay,” Stiles said, trying to pull away once more. It still didn't work. “So, that’s a total invasion of my privacy, you fluffy asshole. Do you often go around checking on my scent, or is this more of a one-time thing?”

Derek gave him a red-eyed glare at that and Stiles tried to pretend like his heart didn’t skip another beat. “Is something wrong?”

“Is something— what? No, Derek, nothing's wrong. Things are just fine and dandy.”

Stiles had always thought it was unfair that werewolves could hear heartbeats because one raised eyebrow from Derek told him the man didn’t believe a word he’d just said. Grunting, Stiles looked over at where Isaac’s snores were still coming from, and then over his shoulder toward the door. Just in case. 

Then, Derek finally letting go of his sleeve, Stiles crossed his arms.

“Why haven’t you ever offered me the bite?”

The alpha tensed, eyes turning guarded. And Stiles tried not to feel hurt at that, biting down on his lower lip.

“Am I not good enough, Derek?”

“Are you not… why would you even think that?”

Stiles scowled at the growled accusation in Derek’s voice. Because god, it wasn’t like he was asking this out of the blue. “You’ve never even asked, dude. Not once, not even a hint. I’ve been apart of this pack for years now and yeah, I know I’m just Stiles. Human, annoying, only-good-at-research Stiles, but I’d make a good werewolf, dammit!”

Derek’s eyes were wide now and he looked a bit taken aback. Carefully, the man stood, looking at Stiles as if he might spontaneously combust at any moment.

Which… he totally wouldn’t. No way.

It didn’t _bother him._

“I’m just Stiles,” he said again, quieter this time. “I know that, but—”

“Stiles.”

Derek’s tone itself was enough to cut Stiles off midsentence. Which was a bit of a relief, because he didn’t really know where he was going with it anyway. But he still glared at the man, surprised that Derek’s expression was nothing but gentle as the man looked steadily back.

“Would you want the bite?”

And it didn’t seem like a real question. Not like Derek was offering, but maybe he was surprised. Surprised that Stiles would even bring it up, surprised that Stiles would even want to be a werewolf. Which wasn’t fair, right? It was just— he just— Stiles clenched his jaw. “Why haven’t you ever asked?”

A long moment passed before Derek answered. “You’re human, Stiles.”

“Well, no, duh.”

“You’re human,” Derek repeated. “But not as a weakness. Your mind, your soul… I’ve never offered the bite because I know you’ve never wanted it. Not because you’re annoying, not because you’re not pack—” The man hesitated, then looked at him carefully. “Because you’re Stiles and there’s nothing more beautiful than that.”

Stiles’s breaths caught in his throat. He stared at the werewolf, all words lost to him for a moment. Which was more than unusual and even Derek looked concerned for a moment. The man took a small step forward and Stiles uncrossed his arms just as quickly. “I… what?”

Derek rolled his eyes, but Stiles could’ve sworn the tips of the man's ears were a little red. And he had heard everything right, hadn’t he?

“Hey, Derek, am I dreaming?”

“You’re an idiot, Stiles,” Derek said. “But you’re also the human one that holds the pack together.”

Stiles focused on Derek’s face. Then his hands, then the floor. His mind was still processing things rather slowly and when he’d asked, he’d kind of expected a gruff response. Something about Stiles sticking to what he did best— research— or maybe just dropping the topic altogether with a threat to his safety if he didn’t. He didn’t expect to glance back up and for Derek to be so close, Stiles choked on his breath.

“Do you want the bite, Stiles?”

“Well... no.”

The look Derek gave him was purely judgemental now. Stiles flushed. 

“I was just wondering.”

“Hm.”

“Don’t ‘hm’ me, asshole,” Stiles said, giving the man a shove. But Derek caught his hands and Stiles was frozen all over again, heart skipping yet another beat. Looking down at him, Derek smirked, and Stiles had no doubts the man knew exactly what was going through his mind at the moment.

“I don’t keep you around just to put on a show during beta training, you know.”

And yep, that was it. Stiles had officially died and been brought back to life again. He opened his mouth and closed it a few times, but no words came out. And screw all the drop-dead gorgeous werewolves, remember? He hated them. All of them.

“You’re my favorite human, Stiles,” Derek said, softer this time. And okay, maybeStiles hated one werewolf less.

He decided that was definitely true when Derek leaned down and kissed him. 

**Author's Note:**

> It's been decided that when my brain decides to start working again, it decides to start working overtime, so here we are! I figured you guys deserve some fluff after that last fic, so I hope you all enjoy! <3


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